Opus
by Lady Aeryn
Summary: He tells himself the reason he's glad is that no student of his should ever have died so easily, so sloppily, at his blade.


**Title:** Opus  
**Rating:** PG for references to murder  
**Characters:** Darth Vader, Ahsoka Tano  
**Timeframe:** unspecified time after RotS  
**Length:** ~ 800 words  
**Summary:** He tells himself the reason he's glad is that no student of_his_ should ever have died so easily, so sloppily, at his blade.  
**Spoilers:** Only vague references to the events of the CW series; speculation of future events  
**Notes:** I wrote genfic! Sound the alarm. ;) I've got several more Ahsoka-featured stories in the hopper - not to say I've given up my A/P shippy ways, though, not at all. But I find the Anakin-Ahsoka dynamic very compelling.

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It's not her.

That shouldn't be the first thing he thinks, shouldn't concern him at all. Let alone _gladden _him.

He tells himself the reason he's glad is that no student of his should ever have died so easily, so sloppily, at his blade. Ahsoka Tano would not have defeated him, but she would have made a far more impressive showing for herself. Might even have injured him in the process. He may not have been an ideal teacher – he _knows_ he wasn't an ideal teacher – but he'd ensured she knew how to fight, to defend herself. She'd had a true warrior's passion, even when she'd lacked in skill.

The Jedi that lies at his feet is a Togruta, a boy, about the age Ahsoka would be now. He remembers how his heart had thudded more quickly in his armored chest as that flash of orange skin and red leather first leapt at him, then returned to normal speed when it hadn't been her.

On some level, he knows he's been waiting for _that_ moment ever since he first knelt before Sidious by that shattered window, begging for the power to save his wife and unborn child. Each Jedi he kills is a simultaneous trickle of relief and unease: the former because it is not her, the latter because each dead one increases the chance that the next one he comes across _will_ be.

Perhaps the Council's abrupt dissolution of their relationship had ultimately benefited her – assuming she _was_ even still alive, of course. She had not been at the Temple when he had come, had not fallen under his blade. Wherever she was in the galaxy at the time, Rex would probably have been with her, and if that was the case, there's a strong possibility she was spared. Rex had been remarkably strong-willed for a clone, and always had a soft spot for the girl, almost as big as the one Skywalker had. Maybe it _had_ been more; he'd never known for sure.

Just as he will have to kill Kenobi whenever they cross paths again, he will have to do the same for Ahsoka. She may no longer be a Jedi, but she still knows enough of their ways. Enough about his former life. It brings him no joy to contemplate it, but she will die.

His step halts, for an instant the only sound of that damn automated respirator.

Or would she?

From the beginning she'd looked up to him, idolized him even, despite her frequent and brash retorts. She'd been so eager to emulate him, and had taken to his bold style quickly. She'd shared his determination, his resourcefulness, and – increasingly so as the war dragged on – his temper.

She'd been willing to follow Skywalker to the ends of the galaxy, at the cost of her own life if need be.

_You thought the same of Padmé_, a traitorous voice whispers, which he crushes instantly.

Ahsoka certainly has little reason to still be loyal to the Jedi. In a way, they'd betrayed her just as badly as they'd betrayed him. Dangled the hope of a bright future before him - her, then snatched it away, spouting their meaningless platitudes all the while as if it changed a damn thing.

He will never train his own child. His short-sighted selfishness has assured that. But he may yet have a living legacy somewhere in the galaxy – one still waiting for him to come and seek the completion of the training that had been denied to them. It would be a fitting irony, he thinks, if his former pupil has indeed survived this long – survived _him_, due to his teachings.

If he can turn her, it will have two benefits: a ready-made apprentice, one who would assuredly be more loyal to him than to Sidious – and destroying the attachment to Tano, to his "Snips," that withered vestige of his former self still clings to.

But that time has not come yet.

He makes to turn and leave the rubble of the old house. Before he can do so, _something _prickles at the back of his neck.

He turns and his optical sensors register nothing but the Togruta boy, eyes still wide and round in their final expression. He can't see the way he used to, before Kenobi had taken _that_ from him too, but he can tell the eyes are the same blue as Ahsoka's. He hadn't bothered to notice when he'd fought the child. But now it churns something in his stomach. He reaches out and closes those unsettling eyes that shouldn't be unsettling, and walks out the door to rejoin his troops.

The prickling remains.

-

[end]


End file.
